


Solus Studies Seashells by the Seashore

by nugicorn



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nugicorn/pseuds/nugicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After curing the Genophage, Solus finally gets his beach vacation. But there's still the nagging feeling that he;s forgotten something ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solus Studies Seashells by the Seashore

For Tag

* * *

ᶲ

Mordin stood up straight, stretching the kinks out of his back, before bending over his microscope once more. The Genophage cure seemed to be doing well. Good. Tomorrow, they would disburse it, which would begin to undo his terrible error.

_And then, seashells._ Yes. He deserved a break. He'd _earned_ it. Besides, Shepard was just about at her final push to defeat the Reapers. She had younger, fitter crew; she didn't need him. She'd probably be relieved that another one of the old, dried-up fish was leaving. After all, she wouldn't have to worry about him. No ancient salarian friend getting killed. Always good to set a friend's fears to rest.

Yes, she'd be grateful he planned on staying out of the way. He told himself this story as he fell into bed, exhausted. _And sometime after it's over, you can take the whole crew (of kids) out to dinner._ Sleep hit him fast, and hard; he'd been too long without a good sleep and his body wasn't what it used to be.

ᶲ

Things were a blurry mess from the moment he woke. Krogan in-fighting, road troubles, and at one point, a thresher maw. Or maybe _the_ thresher maw, he wasn't sure. To be honest, he'd been sleep-walking through most of it. At his age, he should be retired already.

_Soon enough,_ he reminded himself. He patted his jetpack, reassuring himself it was still there as he ascended into the Shroud. Call it a contingency plan.

As it turned out, good damn thing he'd thought ahead.

"Studied species turian, asari, and batarian …" he sang to himself. The whole tower was coming down around his horns, but if he could just get the damned thing dispersed ….

"Success!" he crowed. The tower gave another shudder under him, and his stomach gave a sympathetic flop. Not feasible to take elevator back down.

"No matter." He strode over to one of the windows, weakened already by the building's attempt to collapse. Two blasts from his shotgun gave him a decent-sized hole in the glass, which he widened by kicking at the edges.

Mordin leapt out into nothingness, the jetpack flaring to life and carrying him safely away. Although he had a tickle in his brain, as though there was something he'd forgotten ….

It wasn't his ride; Maelon waited for him in a little shuttle over the rise of the next hill, a safe enough distance that wasn't too far to fly with the jetpack. Mordin dropped the pack after he touched down, tossing it to the side without another thought.

"Everything go okay?" Maelon asked.

Mordin blinked rapidly. It wasn't just a tickle now, it was an itch he couldn't get to no matter how hard he tried. "Fine," he snapped. "Genophage cured."

That was certainly true; he knew his skill, and he'd tested his new cure thoroughly. He couldn't undo the error, but he had atoned for it as best he could. "Feels like I forgot something, though," he admitted.

"Forgot to get our thanks, and get hailed as heroes." Maelon pulled the shuttle away from Tuchanka, heading out into orbit.

"Ew." Mordin pulled a face, his stomach writhing in disgust. He wouldn't have been able to tolerate standing there while they fawned praise on him, knowing that they'd lost countless young because of his …. "No." His tone may have been harsh, but it was nowhere near as harsh as his thoughts on what he'd originally done. "Let's just get away as quickly as possible."

Whatever he'd forgotten, he'd remember eventually.

ᶲ

Mordin breathed deeply, the salt sea air filling his lungs. This must be what relaxation felt like. The waves crashed gently against the shore, the background sound feeling like the breath of the very universe. He woke up to it, worked to it, let it soothe him to sleep at night. Everything about this place amazed him. So clean. So pure.

_So much work to be done._

He grabbed another shell, examining it closely. _Conical. Brown and pink._ His fingers ran over it as he rattled off the classification, before he tossed it back toward the sea. He didn't need another one of those. He hadn't found anything new in a month and a half; he was likely out of new shells on this particular beach.

Still … he felt so rejuvenated being here. Taking a deep breath, he tasted the sharp, tangy air. No pollutants. No stress. He didn't have any urge to move on yet. Occasionally, he still got an itch in his brain, the barest feeling that maybe something important had been left undone ….

But what? He'd cured the Genophage, the rest of them were fighting the Reapers. Or … how long had it been? A few months, at least. Reapers had a much greater force. Conflict likely resolved, one way or the other. In fact, Shepard likely won, if no news of impending doom had spread here. She might enjoy a beach vacation, actually. He should message her to ask—

"Ohhhh, shit." Mordin finally remembered what he'd forgotten all those months ago.

ᶲ

_Hey, Shepard. Funny story. Was thinking. Don't really need me for any of the big battles remaining. And, really think I'd feel uncomfortable with krogan shaking my hand just because I took back horrible mistake I made. Sooo … Decided I would take a little vacation immediately after I dispersed the Genophage cure. Don't worry, arranged for my own ride off Tuchanka and everything. It was a jetpack, by the way. I'm realizing now that since I never told you in advance, you must have thought …. Sorry about that._

_Anyway, hope you're well. Let me know how the Reaper thing turned out!_

— _Mordin_

_P.S. I am so sorry. Please remember I did save your ass on at least one occasion._

ᶲ

"Shepard?" Garrus looked up from his work, flicked his mandibles. She'd gotten quiet, again, and when he raised his eyes, he saw that look in her eyes, her body curled up as she sat in the window, staring out into the sea of stars. The melancholy. The thinking about all they lost. The counting the cost, which surviving commanders always had to do. Which parts were worth it? Which were a waste?

He got up, then knelt close so he could wrap his arms around her. "You did the right things, love. You made every decision as best you could."

"I know, just. What if—"

"No what-ifs. It's not healthy, you—

The chime of her omni-tool interrupted him, and when she looked, she gave a half-laugh, half sob.

"What is it?" Browplates furrowed in renewed concern. Who was it this time?

"It's … it's Mordin. He must have left something on delay. Do you …." Her grey eyes rose to meet his, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. "Do you mind if I read it alone?"

"Anything you want, love." He stood, pressing his mouth-plates against her forehead briefly. "I'll go start us some coffees. When you're ready, we'll talk about it."

Garrus left her, his chest aching for her as she read yet another final message. What could he have left, now? He already put that weepy funeral song on a datapad. Everyone had said their goodbyes. What would he have put on a delay this long? Something didn't seem right about that, but he couldn't put his talon on it.

He ran the water, setting up two different pots to start brewing. Shep liked hers bitter, black, and levo. Garrus would be tempted to try it, if she hadn't liked it strong enough to take down a krogan. The caffeine content was more likely to kill him than the levo, honestly.

_Why now?_ he wondered again. It didn't seem like Mordin to have planned something this far out. Now, when he was around, he'd forget anything that wasn't his research for months at a time. Garrus grinned. Good luck getting him to tell you he was stepping out to a shop while they were docked at Omega. Or checking on his clinic ….

Mandibles drooped as his smile faltered. There was no chance he was alive, and simply forgot to check in … was there?

" _SON OF A BITCH!"_ Shepard's scream echoed through the ship, reverberating off the metal walls.

_Whoops._ Garrus's mandibles spread wide in a grin. _Well, if he wasn't dead already, he's about to be._

Shepard howled again, the sound containing all the fury and grief she'd held back for so long. _"I held a wake for you, you piece of shit!"_


End file.
